


Masturbation Patrol

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Smutember 2017, Voyeurism, messy pervy warboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 05:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Summary: Slit tries to release some tension but Toast is patrolling the corridors like a damn busy body. <3A/N: For the Smutember 2017 challenge (https://smutember.tumblr.com/post/164308887575/announcing-smutember-smutember-is-a-multifandom)See tags for warnings.





	Masturbation Patrol

Lots of the other Warboys did it, most times they didn’t even bother heading to their bunks to get it out of their system either. Slit knew for a fact that the short one - the one with skin the color of the wood-stuff, all organic but ancient - had seen Gibs slobbering his rod with engine oil at the sight of her. As far as Slit knew, she didn’t smack him upside the head as she’d just done Slit after catching him grunting over a very angry flesh rod that needed bustin’ before it got too distracting.

Toast, that’s what her name was - one of the wives he’d almost kissed Valhalla soil for, and she’d smacked him like he was some pup!

She was a pup! About as tiny as one and weaker than one too boot.

Fang her for thinking she could stop Slit from stroking the gunk out of him. He’d run better after the clog went loose; more kamikrazy and clean. Having all the Wives just walking around without a fuss was making everything reek of organic grease and the slippery stuff that shot out their rods, coming in loads when the blood got too octane heavy.

The smell was making Slit worse off than usual.

The sight of the Wives made his stomach twist like he had warm shrapnel in it and that short one, Toast, she was walking around wearing Warboy pants high up on her waist and something dingy around those generous milkers.

Slit wasn’t stupid. He knew what those were for. He’d been yelled at for staring at them but what did she expect? Everything was hard and dense in the catacombs, and she was all softness, and those fatty rounds on her chest always bounced when she walked. The little tips bulged under the cloth; needing something, someone to suck on them… drain them dry. Nothing else like them down here in the dark pits cept nothin’.

Nux told Slit that his Wife liked having her milkers mouthed, but Slit hadn’t heard of him feasting on mother’s milk yet, though knowing how much Nux got despite being so bloody unworthy, it wouldn’t surprise Slit to hear he filled his belly every night on it.

So, the reek of gunk, of sweat and the constant distraction of the Wives, especially soft Toast, got his rod hard enough to beat Gibs over the head with.

Slit had tried solving this problem twice. The first time Toast found him, saw the sight of him working the burning flesh like a lancer’s pole with a furiousness he barely enjoyed, she’d waltz right on up and smacked the side of his head like he’d been some disobedient pup. It would have been funny, because she had to get up on her tiptoes to do it and even then she barely reached his ear, but it wasn’t.

She’d interrupted him right before getting the clog out, and the next day she did it again! - but the second time she poked him with a thunder stick and not in the head but in the ribs right where the stitches had made his skin twisted and beautiful.

Slit must have spooked her last time without realizing it because she was keeping her distance the second time; huddling close to a wrecker and a rotgut-full group of snoozing Warboys as if they’d help her if he went kamikrazy on her.

“Fang off!” He howled, snarling with bared teeth until the flesh around his stables pulled tautly. Toast startled, but only for a second before she jabbed the end of that guzz bottle back under his ribs.

Proud little thing. Thinking she could stand up to him?! No one stood up to Slit, not even Nux… except once or twice.

Toast hovered there in the dim corridor between twisted metal, and wet rock and Slit dared to give his desperate flesh another oily drag and thrust while looking right into those prey-wide brown eyes.

She looked like he’d gutted a pup in front of her - the look of horror was massive. The little, gentle breeze she let past her lips got him about ready to pop - unsurprising but what was surprising was that the thunder stick stopped jabbing his side and her eyes darted down to his red rod, watching him tug it with a nasty snarl. Seemed like she liked the way it looked. Couldn’t be true, Slit thought, but a well of pride bolstered in his chest as he churned his hips for show while fisting the flesh and squeezing it hard enough that the motions started making warm wet noises like knuckles on sweat-slick skin during a brawl.

“It’s your fault,” Slit hissed, “… dumb Wives - Warboys can’t even do war no more thanks to you and the red one.”

Slit growled out his venom when Toast didn’t take a step back or falter. Her eyes were locked on the brutal smack of hard skin and sleuthing sounds. Slit gave his rod a mean squeeze and wagged it a bit just to see her eyes following it. He grinned, barked a laugh and fanged it all the faster. A glob of pre-clog wet his palm, which just made his grasp glide over the iron skin all the faster - all the smoother until he braced a palm on the sodden wall and hunched over with the ripping sensation starting to build.

Toast watched - the thunder stick shaking in her hands - and frowned. She grumbled, eyes still hot on his flesh rod and laid the guzz bottle on the stone floor while Slit fucked and fanged and stroked the heavy meat in his fist until the clog came undone, pulling up from the soft flesh hanging between his thighs and burst out in thick lines along the floor. The expunged fluid gave Slit an immediate high, better than war, better than rotgut and left his head feeling clear and muscles loose.

Toast made a sound; more gentle breeze through the world holes in the catacombs and caught his sloppy attention.

She was eying the stains on the floor, skimming the dribbling tip of his softening flesh and there, in the dark, licked her ruddy lips. It was then, with the clog gone and Slit on his way to getting back on a cabby, chasing war, that his stomach quivered and he wanted those lips around him when the flesh eventually went to steel again…

Kamikrazy.

Maybe Slit would swallow some of his pride and ask Nux if the red one put her mouth on his shriveled up rod, and if she did, then Slit wanted to know how to get this Toast to do the same.

The next time Slit drained the annoying flesh, it was with the closed-eye image of Toast’s little plush mouth sucking the clog out, making those breezy sounds all the while.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading. I might do more of these as a way to practice writing shorter drabbles since I have trouble doing so, often and always. Let me know what you think if you have the time. <3
> 
> [PILLOWFORT](https://www.pillowfort.io/brimbrimbrimbrim)   
>  [CURIOUS Cat (for asks)](https://curiouscat.me/brimbrimbrimbrim)   
>  [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/LydiaBrim)   
>  [INSTAGRAM](https://www.instagram.com/brim_brim_brim_brim/)


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